status: open @thecursed-starters
location: were here at the carnival still pals
notes: directly after the quake/ascension
"I'm not the only one who felt that, right?" Despite the obviousness of the reactions around him, he certainly wasn't. And yet, still Lenny waited for some kind of sign that it wasn't simply all in his head. He was, after-all, doomed to an ever-looming insanity. It was just as possible that the world simply skewed based on the cogs of fate, drawing him ever nearer his own demise.
Stands had rocked, items tumbling headlong to the ground and planks of wood pried themselves loose as the ground beneath objected violently to something none of them could see. And yet, he knew. "I don't like this.." he muttered, mostly to himself, and yet as he looked up at the presence beside him, Lenny shook his head, as if conducted by the omen itself. "We should leave," meaning - he, him.. "None of us should be here."
Grayson hadn't had any intention of going to the carnival. Believe it or not, he wasn't one for rides and games. He did enjoy a funnel cake, however, and allowed himself to go into town specifically to buy said funnel cake and take it home for the night. And what should have been a quick 20 minute in-and-out trip, was anything but. The earthquake hit right as Grayson had been halfway back to the carnival exit, sending it flying from his hands. Because of course it did.
Chaos immediately followed as people began to panic and the werewolf stepped off to the side to avoid potential stampede. He found himself beside Lenny, because of course he did, and sighed. "Nah, I think all the people freaking out felt it too," he muttered, brushing powdered sugar off his shirt. What a waste. "Take a breath, Lenny. Panic isn't doing any of the rest of them any good, it won't help you either."
Who: @thecursed-starters
Where: In Town, Earthquake aftermath
Earthquakes were something new to Grayson. The damage it had left in its wake was unlike anything Grayson had ever seen before. It was as if God himself had taken a knife to the city, slashing it open wide and in every direction, leaving behind open wounds for the town to heal from. The werewolf himself had even taken a hit, the cut above his eye, caused from slamming into the side of a car as the ground had given beneath him.
His head pulsed, but he ignored the pain for now. The plan was to find his way back to his shithole apartment and hope the damn thing hadn't become debris like most of the buildings. Please help! The grip on his bicep was almost shaken off, but he found himself face-to-face with a small woman, tears and snot running down her face. My son, he's trapped! Without resisting, Grayson let himself be dragged over to where the woman's young boy had his arm caught in the car door, a concrete slab from the building had broken off and pinned him. He shrieked in pain and fear as his mother tried to calm him.
Fuck.
He could probably move the slab, but they'd need something to pull the car door open so the mom could grab her kid. Looking around, he watched as someone finally came into view. He whistled for them, waving them over as the noise caught their attention. "Get ready to grab the car door," he ordered, giving them no time to refuse as he slid himself between the car and the slab, bracing his back against it and readying himself. He really hated this fucking town.
status: open @thecursed-starters
location: in town somewhere
note: during the ascension/carnival
The rancid scent of blood and smoke stung his nostrils and it was impossible to stop the grimace that flourished upon rough features. In the seconds passed in which the ground shook with ferocity, Madden had barely stepped upon the sidewalk beyond the grim lighting of the bar and heard the screech of tyres and the ungodly sound of metal objecting as the power line fell as it's founding pillar was ripped clean from the ground - finding it's new home across the bonnet of several cars.
He felt the spark of electricity in the air and before too much movement flocked towards the mess of metal, and limbs - Madden reacted, "Don't touch anything," his hand reached out, pushing the occupant of the vehicle back into their seat as gently as he could, "I think that line is still live, you're basically sitting in a giant bug-zapper," darkened hues flickered to those nearby and immediately wished he hadn't been the one to do more than stand and gawk - "Hey," the hand not gently pressed to the vehicles passenger shoulder flew out as he clicked his fingers - a rather obnoxious act anywhere else, "Earth to...-- this guy needs help, think you're up to it?" Madden was never very good at that game - operation, and he wasn't about to give it a shot on a life-sized version, consequence, death.
Grayson watched the scene unfold, his expression akin to that of boredom. Perhaps God was finally sick of this town and had decided to do Grayson a favor and burn it down, along with everyone inside. The former Hunter would've liked to have believed that to be true, but he knew better. God had abandoned this town - and Grayson along with it. He paid little mind to the older man who had reacted, instead stepping forward to move around the group of gawkers and take his leave. The wannabe hero had other plans.
Staring at the man clicking his fingers, Grayson did his best to keep his expression neutral. Who snapped their fingers at people like that? Rude old man. "Sure," he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I can help," he said after a beat, long strides taking him to the car and the passenger within.
His gaze took in the sight of the car, noting no signs of smoke or fire. "They're going to need to turn off electricity before we can do anything." Grayson turned to the other man, "Unless you're planning on us dragging him out the window and hoping for the best." Grayson had a bad feeling that was exactly this guy's idea. He had that 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of thing going on, if him charging into an electric death box was anything to go off of.
the first thing he notices when he steps inside the grandiose concrete walls of the municipal library building is the smell.
now he gets it. this intoxicating, exuberant perfume that people talk about when they say they ‘love the smell of books’. when he was a mortal with normal senses, he wondered if that was some sort of sick joke that people were trying to pull on him because he used to think – still does! – that reading was boooooringgg. now, aware of what people liked so much about this smell, he wonders if some people are just built differently. like they have a knack for getting addicted to just anything good that they smell. if they weren’t such nerds, who spent their entire days locked up inside a building, surrounded by this sweet, wooden smell, they would make for great cocaine addicts. such wasted potential as clientele...
speaking of nerds who spent their entire days locked up inside a building surrounded by the sweet, wooden smell of books – almost as if he’d read his mind – grayson materializes behind the counter. grayson isn’t like most bookworm geeks he knows, though. there’s something about him. something edgy. maybe it’s the athletic build. maybe it’s the fact that he’s good-looking. or maybe it’s the fact that he talks like a normal person. he wouldn’t expect either from a librarian. yet, grayson still has the type of smarts he doesn’t and desperately needs – he’s book-smart. especially now, after that psycho celeste no last name kindly (and very sexily, if you asked him!) threatened to kill if he didn’t get a degree and secure the rights to a multimillion-dollar company in six months.
but before he can even greet grayson, he realizes something about him that he had never noticed before. there's a weird scent.
not weird in the sense that it’s bad or anything, but it’s strong and undeniable and it feels like he’s smelling a blanket someone sprayed with men’s cologne. it’s okay, he guesses, but it also feels so out of place that he cannot shake the feeling it’s… magical.
he’s already been staring at grayson in silence for too long. it feels awkward as fuck. he has to say something now. and so, he whispers (because he doesn’t want grayson telling him to shhh! for fuck’s sake), “are you– one of them too?!”
Accepting a position at the library had been an easy enough decision for Grayson. He was a reader, had been since he was young. The Order had an extensive collection of books, and between training and late into most nights, it wasn't uncommon for Grayson to have his nose shoved deep into a book. A leatherbound journal his usual companion, laid open beside him as he jotted notes down. Salem's library was nothing by comparison to The Order's but it did provide a unique insight into the town's history.
On shift, Grayson spent hours updating the card catalogs, something he was working on now. It appeared someone had gone through them and left them an unorganized clusterfuck, leaving him scowling down at the index cards in hand. He swore he worked with some of the most intolerable assholes.
Feeling a pair of eyes lingering, his head came up, eyes meeting the unwavering gaze of Asher's. Now, Grayson was used to people staring at him in the library. Mostly young high school students having come in to study, unexpecting to see him behind the counter. Occasionally a single mother who had nothing to lose. It wasn't a big deal, he knew he didn't look the part of the normal librarian. But Asher was a grown ass man who already knew Grayson worked here, so what the fuck was up with him?
Just as he was about to ask that very question, Asher beat him to it, a jumble of words falling out in what felt like a mix of excitement and confusion. "'One of them?' You've known I was a librarian for a while now, Asher," he responded, eyeing the bartender up and down. "I get that you're not the library-type, but it can't possibly be that shocking."
· Grayson’s most prominent memory is within the walls of The Order. Training beside family from the early morning until night fell and he could no longer keep his eyes open. The first and only child, the pride and joy of the Grayson family as he was set to take on the role of Hunter, like his mother before him.
· He spent his formative years inhaling every book The Order had, taking notes in journal after journal to study at his leisure. The pride in his mother’s eye an incredible motivator to continue bettering himself.
· Like his mother, Grayson specialized himself in werewolves. Like his mother, Grayson has no interest in cures. A beast is a beast and the only true cure is death.
· When he graduated, he graciously accepted every job he was given and completed it quickly. Werewolves hunted down without mercy; zero hesitation with each pull of the trigger that sent a silver bullet into the heart of his prey. He slept every night comfortably, never a sliver of guilt over the lives he’d taken.
· At twenty-seven, Grayson considered himself a seasoned hunter and took great pride in all his accomplishments. So, when he was sent on a job with his mother as the head of the hunting party outside of Salem, the gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them, but they were confident in themselves and each other.
· What they faced was unlike anything Grayson had ever seen or heard of behind. Maybe they’d all gotten too comfortable, or maybe the wolf was something else, but Grayson can’t explain the violence it inflicted on his team. Shredded, devoured, mutilated, the hunting party could hardly be called remains with the way they were massacred so viciously.
· He and his mother stood back-to-back, eyes wide as they searched the surrounding area for their target. His foot slipped on the blood soaked grass and he didn’t have the chance to catch himself before searing pain ripped itself through his bicep and he found himself being dragged from the clearing that held his fellow hunter’s remains; his last sight that of his mother’s open and unseeing eyes, her head lying three feet from her body.
· Grayson can still smell the blood, hear the screams, relive the pain of that night. Only the wolf itself holds mystery, barely a flash of wild eyes in his memory as it turned his world upside down.
· When he awoke the next morning, he spent an hour making it back to where the hunting party laid in ruins. But he wasn’t a fool, he knew what fate awaited him. He found his mother’s gun, still loaded with her last silver bullet. Bending forward, he set the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
· The bullet jammed and Grayson had his sign. His blood was dirtied, but his mission wasn’t over. The wolf that had killed his family and cursed him would die by his hand.
· He spent the day digging into the bloody mud, ignoring the ripping of his finger nails and pain that spread through his body. He didn’t stop digging until the grave was big enough to hold the bodies of his fallen comrades.
· It pained him to leave them in an unmarked grave, but he hoped that when The Order found them it would be assumed he died alongside them. If not, they would come for him and he couldn’t let them kill him before his job was finished.
· He took his time making his way to Salem and has spent the last year and a half integrating himself into the town as best he could while also keeping a controlled distance. The last thing he needed was someone getting too close and asking too many questions.
· He’s certain that the beast who murdered his people is in this cursed town and knows it’s his last mission to take them out before he ‘cures’ the werewolf within him as well.
